The house was tiny, a single room except for whatever might be up the low set of stairs curving around the back, and disappointingly empty. But no dust had accumulated. The coals in the woodstove, though dark and cold, had been burning recently.
Elspeth disappeared up the stairs. Charlotte staggered toward the bed in the corner and sank onto it, stroking the greenery’s fronds. The throbbing over her left eye jabbed at her. She winced.
Then she saw the tool kit.
It lay on the bedside table, so familiar that Charlotte forgotwhere she was and what they were doing. She opened the kit and took stock. A collection of miniature screwdrivers. A case opener. A cleaning cloth. A straight, nickel-plated brass bar with a thick middle and thinner, notched ends, one smaller and one larger. She could never remember the name of the latter, but it was undoubtedly Arthur’s: The drip of paint on it had been there for years.
A tendril reached for the tool kit and poked at it. The plant creature clicked faintly.
“Lottie?”
She blinked. Elspeth had come back from wherever the stairs led and was frowning at her.
“All right?”
Charlotte closed the tool kit. Her chest buzzed. “Arthur’s been here.”
“How do you know?”
“This tool kit. Watch-repairing tools. They’re his.” Charlotte clutched the kit to her chest, half expecting him to pop out of nowhere. The plant creature curled over her arm. “I’d know them anywhere. He’s been here.”
Elspeth examined the stove. “Can’t’ve been gone long. Someone’s been here within the last couple days, that’s sure enough.”
Charlotte’s hope at finding the tools faded.
“He was here. He must have been safe—” if he’d had his tool kit out, though she couldn’t imagine how he would’ve come by a watch to fix in the middle of the forest “—so why did he leave?”
The only reasons Charlotte could imagine Arthur would have left a safe place, after running into danger in the forest, were bad ones. Something, or someone, had chased him out. Or killed him. Turned him into a tree. There had been so manyof those twisted, terribly human trees. Would Charlotte even recognize her brother, if he had joined their ranks?
You’ll never find me, his voice whispered in her head.
Her fingers dug into the tool kit. She breathed deeply,in for four, hold for four, out for four.The plant creature crept over her shoulder, shivering, and draped around her like a cloak.
“Hey, now,” Elspeth said. “You know he was here. That’s something.”
Charlotte laughed wetly.
“I mean it.” Elspeth crouched beside her. Her eyes flickered toward the plant creature, but she let it alone. “Maybe he’s headed back to Seacliff. Lord of the Wood might’ve gone to take him home, same as he did for my gran and your da all them years ago.”
“Maybe.” Charlotte wanted to cry. “But I could have found him here and gone home myself. Or I could’ve trusted he’d make it back and stayed home in the first place.” Realizing what she’d said, she flushed. “That is—”
Elspeth smiled crookedly. “S’all right. You could’ve been home and I could be looking on my own. Looking on my own was the plan anyhow, till I met you.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“S’all right.” Elspeth dropped into one of the armchairs by the stove, wrapping herself tightly in her cloak. “Know you’re none too fond of me. We’re working together, that’s all.”
She seemed morose, and no wonder. Charlotte had been so astonished to find a positive sign of her brother that she’d forgotten all about Elspeth’s sister. Now she’d implied she’d rather not be traveling through the forest with Elspeth at all. Not that she wouldn’trather—but that was because of the forest, not Elspeth, though Elspeth was irritating and sarcastic and dreadfully informal. She was kind, too, in her deeds if not always inher words, and among the trees she’d been... Charlotte didn’t know what to term it. Scared. Vulnerable.
Charlotte abandoned the tool kit and joined Elspeth by the stove, the greenery swaying on her shoulders. The armchair she sank into offered a small amount of comfort. After three days in a gig, over bumpy forest paths, a proper chair was a relief.
The plant creature slid from Charlotte’s shoulder, formed into a ball, and rolled toward the stove. Finding the coals cold, it clicked fretfully.
“Maybe your sister was here, too,” Charlotte said.
Elspeth let out a long breath, gazing into the dark stove. “Don’t have to tell me lies to make me feel better. She’s been gone for weeks. I know it’s just as likely I’m looking for a corpse.”
Her face twisted. Maybe she’d heard her sister’s voice in the trees. Taunting, telling her,You’llnever find me, the way Arthur’s voice had taunted Charlotte.
